


On One Drive Home

by ellbie



Series: Drinking Buddies [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley and Anathema Device are Friends (Good Omens), Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 03:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellbie/pseuds/ellbie
Summary: “Come on, Book Girl,” he said, ignoring her confused look as he climbed out of the car.“I want to show you something.”





	On One Drive Home

**Author's Note:**

> A little one-shot flash back meant to take place before pub scene in Part 1.

_ One month earlier... _

Anathema looked out the window of the Bentley as the scenery -- mostly dark blurs of navy and silver -- sailed past. The sky was inky black and pin-pricked with hundreds of stars. A wisp of bright grey cloud passing over the face of the moon threw a momentary shadow over the gleaming nightscape. 

Crowley had been silent for most of the drive back to Tadfield, with one wrist draped lazily over the top of the steering wheel and his upper body slouched forward in a position that looked entirely uncomfortable to anyone who had never been a snake before. The car had been mostly silent too, with the volume dial of the stereo settled comfortably in an “off” position. 

From the passenger seat, Anathema stole a glance to her right and watched how the moonlight carved deep shadows into the demon’s angled cheeks. His sunglasses hid his eyes completely, but she trusted that he could still see clearly through the darkness. After all, Aziraphale wouldn’t have asked him to drive her home if there’d been any risk of them not arriving in one piece, and when the angel commanded him to “drive safely,” Anathema noticed how Crowley’s face softened into a smile as he nodded that he would. Even though the exact nature of their relationship was a bit of a mystery to her, she knew the demon wouldn’t lie to Aziraphale.

After a while, the thrumming engine lulled her into a thoughtful melancholy. She’d been ruminating for the last couple dozen miles, turning a question over and over in her mind until it felt smooth and polished enough that she could give voice to it.

She cleared her throat.

“Will you tell me what Hell’s like?”

The demon kept his eyes on the road.

Silence.

“Crowley?” she tentatively asked again.

“Why d’you want to know.” It didn’t even sound like a question, just weary and cheerless.

“Curiosity, I guess,” Anathema said after a pause. “Besides, I’m a witch. I’ll probably end up there anyway, right?” 

She meant it as a joke.

“Don’t say that.”

Crowely went quiet again, and Anathema resigned herself to never getting an answer out of him. Maybe she could ask the angel...

“It’s crowded,” Crowley finally admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness, “And dark. And damp. And full of arseholes with Mommy issues who are just trying to do their jobs.” 

He looked in the rearview mirror at the reflection of the moon in the black sky.

“You know those fluorescent lights in dingy office buildings?” he asked. “The ones that are just bright enough to hurt your eyes and they buzz just loudly enough to be annoying and they flicker at odd intervals? Hell was so proud of those that they put them up everywhere.”

A sympathetic smile played on Anathema’s lips. “Must’ve been pretty bad for you to want to stay on Earth all this time.”

“Oh, I wasn’t the only one,” Crowley answered with a dry laugh. “Why d’you think Aziraphale’s still here? He had plenty of chances to go back to Heaven, but it’s just as awful as Hell.”

Anathema raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

From what she’d gleaned about Heaven from Aziraphale, it didn’t sound as glamorous as the Christians would have you believe, but it couldn’t be _ that _ bad. It was still _ Heaven_, after all.

“You’re blessed right, _ ‘really _ .’ Heaven is the exact opposite of Hell, and not in a good way.” Crowley gripped the wheel and his lips pulled back into a sneer. That hint of bitterness became more obvious as his voice lowered to a hiss. “It’s sparse and… _ clinical _. And the great view doesn’t make up for how bloody boring it is.” An imperceptible shiver raced up his spine. “An’ it’s cold.”

Anathema watched as the long, dark ribbon of road ahead of them was sucked under the hood as they flew along. “So they’re both awful, but for different reasons?”

“‘Fraid so.”

She frowned. “That’s… disappointing.”

“Best not to dwell on it.”

“Kind of hard not to, now.”

“Actually...” Crowley thought for a moment. “They’re _ both _ full of arseholes with Mommy issues. That’s the one thing they’ve got in common.”

The witch laughed ruefully. “I bet God loves hearing you talk like that.”

Crowley winced. “The Almighty doesn't exactly take my calls anymore. She barely acknowledges the angels that _ didn’t _ Fall, let alone my lot.” He sighed, and after another beat passed, he changed the subject. “Besides, Earth isn’t nearly that bad when you think about it. Humans are clever. Brilliant, really. At least when you’re not trying to make yourselves extinct. And you can walk into nearly any building on the planet and get a decent drink. Can’t say the same for Heaven or Hell.”

Anathema smiled at him before getting thoughtful again. “Do you ever miss it?”

“What?” Crowely asked, taking his eyes off the road to look at her. “Heaven?”

Anathema nodded carefully.

He snapped his gaze forward again and didn’t answer.

“You ok?” It didn’t escape her notice how his body had stiffened.

For a split second, his eyes scrunched shut involuntarily against an onslaught of memories. 

_ God’s presence everywhere… the Great Plan… Lucifer… the War… Falling down, down, down… _

Crowley took his hand off the wheel and let it swirl around in the moonlight as if he’d be able to pluck an acceptable answer out of the air. His mouth was forming wordlessly around a sentiment that was impossible to convey.

“Ngk.” He gave up.

Previously when Aziraphale and Crowley had peppered their stories with side notes about their respective Head Offices, they’d mostly made light of the bureaucracy, the ineptitude, and the amount of paperwork involved, typically with an extra pinch of blasphemy supplied by the demon. But now there was no levity in Crowley’s voice as it caught on words he couldn’t coherently form, words that really just wanted to say what he’d told Aziraphale 150 years before: _I never meant to Fall._

“I’m sorry,” Anathema said, suddenly aware of how personal of a question she'd asked. 

“S’fine.” 

The edge in his response let her know to drop the subject.

* * *

They continued on in silence until they were about 20 minutes outside of Tadfield. Then Crowley pulled the car over to the side of the road and cut the ignition.

“Come on, Book Girl,” he said, ignoring her confused look as he climbed out of the car.

Anathema stared at the newly vacated seat for another moment before Crowley’s face reappeared, leaning back in through the open driver’s side door.

“I want to show you something.”

With a bit of trepidation, she clambered out of the car, struggling not to trip on her long skirt in the low light, and followed him toward the edge of the trees that lined the roadside.

“It’s not a secret that I’m no good at being a demon,” he said, leading the way, “and obviously if I’d been any good at being an angel, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

Their feet crunched over the cold, hard ground. 

“There are things I have now that I could’ve never had then,” he mused, more to himself than to her as they walked deeper into the woods. “But there are things I had then…” 

He trailed off as they entered a small clearing.

Anathema stood at his side and tried to meet his gaze, but he was staring straight up into the sky. She looked up into the black dome, and her mouth slowly fell open. Even for how far they were from the light pollution of London, the stars seemed too impossibly bright. Miraculously bright, even. Their glittering reflections pooled brilliantly in Anathema’s dark eyes.

“Why’d you stop here?” she asked quietly as she marveled at the glow of the huge constellations.

“It only took God 6 days to make the universe,” the demon explained, “but there was some prep work that started long before that.”

Crowley moved his arm near her face and pointed up and to the right, guiding her gaze to a cluster of stars.

“A very, very, _ very _ long time ago,” he said, his voice full of steady, quiet pride, “I helped make those.” 

Anathema could only let out a breathless “_wow _…”

“And that one.” He pointed in a different direction. “The sort of bluish one there. Well, it’s not really blue anymore, but it’ll be a few thousand years before anyone’ll notice.”

Anathema looked on in awe.

“And over there,” he pointed just above the canopy of night-silvered leaves. “It’s too far away to see from here, but way out in that direction there’s a pretty impressive nebula if I do say so myself.” He sniffed smugly. “I had a hand in that, too.”

“They’re beautiful,” Anathema whispered as she stared gobsmacked at the ever brightening whirls of stars that cut through the black and almost outshined the moon.

Crowley directed her gaze to a few more of the celestial bodies he was particularly proud of, and as he watched her admiring the view, he felt a fullness rise suddenly in his chest. In a moment of panic, he considered, wiping the witch’s memory and miracling her back to the Bentley so he could pretend this entire conversation never happened. He shifted his feet, then thought better of it. Instead, he took a deep breath and settled for “forgetting” to miracle away the wintry chill that was settling deep in their bones. Before long, Anathema’s shivering grew more pronounced, and he knew it wouldn't be much longer before they’d have to return to the car. He relaxed again. 

Anathema tried to ignore the cold for as long as possible, even as the numbness in her fingers and toes moved uncomfortably up into her arms and legs. She knew Crowley wouldn't be continuing this conversation with her anytime soon. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering and stared hard at the sky, attempting to commit the sight to memory. Her breath floated past her lips as a silver vapor, floating up just above her head before being dissipated by a biting wind.

They continued to stand together, side by side. Anathema was shivering and smiling heavenward, and Crowley, in this one rare moment, was simply content to remember.


End file.
